


Dance Floor Whore

by Ropewithnoanchor



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Barebacking, Bondage, Butt Plugs, Dom/sub, Felching, Fluff, Fluffy Ending, Humiliation, Jealous Louis, Jealousy, M/M, Non-Consensual Bondage, Prostate Milking, Punishment, Riding, Rimming, Shower Sex, Slut Shaming, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-25
Updated: 2014-10-30
Packaged: 2018-02-22 12:07:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2507192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ropewithnoanchor/pseuds/Ropewithnoanchor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis and Harry go to a club while on tour to blow off some steam, but Harry gets too drunk and lets another man dance up on him in front of everyone. Louis takes him back to their hotel and spends the next morning punishing Harry, making Harry work to make it up to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, this BDSM relationship between Louis and Harry would be consensual with an implied safe word. This particular story takes place during the Where We Are Tour (it could be in any American city, but in my mind it's Miami).
> 
> Trying to have more than one chapter, let's hope I actually finish, I have a bad track record. Also I have no idea why I wrote this in the present tense, and I'm sorry this first chapter has no sex. Send me prompts! x

Louis’ fingers are wrapped around his vodka soda so tightly it’s a wonder there aren’t shard of glass everywhere. He’s leaning against the corner of the bar, his spine ramrod straight, staying mostly in shadow so as not to be recognized, and his eyes are narrowed as he watches his boyfriend.

He can’t figure out if Harry is doing it on purpose to piss him off, but if he is, it’s working.

Harry’s been dancing for almost an hour now, something Louis usually has no problem letting him do to blow off steam. But now he’s got his t-shirt off, tucked into the back pocket of his skintight black jeans, and there’s a ring of men and women around him, mesmerized as the famous rockstar just lets loose on the dance floor, his sweat-slick skin shining under the flashing lights.

Louis knows it’s only a matter of time until one of the onlookers gets ballsy enough to try something, and his eyes widen as he sees a guy start to saunter up to Harry. He nearly breaks a tooth on an ice cube when Harry doesn’t resist, just lets the stranger slip up behind him and grab onto his bare hips. Immediately the other people are pulling out their cell phones, trying to get a good picture of the famous Harry Styles grinding against another man.

Time to step in. Louis slams his empty drink down on the counter and stalks over to the dance floor, cutting his way through the crowd and grabbing onto Harry’s arm.

“Let’s _go_ ,” he says, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Harry blinks up at him in surprise, and Louis can immediately tell how drunk the boy is just by the look in his eye. “M’dancing, Lou,” he protests, words slurring together.

“Not anymore,” Louis snaps, tightening his grip on Harry’s upper arm and ripping him away from the ballsy fuck that dared try to rub himself all over Louis’ boyfriend.

He physically drags Harry out of the club, despite the boy’s mumbled protests and weak resistance. They go out the back entrance to avoid the undoubtedly large number of young female fans crowding the front—not before Louis first wrestles Harry back into his wrinkled t-shirt just in case—and immediately climb into the black SUV waiting for them.

Louis is seething. Harry’s muttering something about feeling carsick and curls up on the bench seat, trying to tuck his head onto Louis’ lap, but Louis pointedly slides away and lets Harry’s head drop onto the leather. 

“Ow.” Harry sits up slowly, rubbing his neck and eyeballing Louis. “What’s’a matter with you?”

“Just you wait, Styles,” Louis says. “You better hope no one got a decent photo of you back there. Modest is going to have your ass in the morning.”

Harry frowns, his drunken brain trying to comprehend what Louis is saying, and Louis stares at him, trying to figure out when and how Harry got this wasted.

“Were people buying you drinks?”

Harry’s fidgets a little before nodding.

“You were taking drinks from people on the dance floor?”

He nods again, looking anywhere but at Louis.

Louis tips his head back against the seat, rubbing his temples and groaning. “Oh my god. Oh my _god_.”

“M’sorry, Lou,” Harry whispers, cautiously playing with the hem of Louis shirt.

“They could’ve spiked them!” Louis cries, his volume raising enough to make Harry cringe. “They could’ve fucking _poisoned_ them if they wanted to, Jesus, I can’t believe you’d be that _stupid_ , Harry!”

As they pulled up in back of the hotel, Louis can see Harry’s eyes have filled with tears. But he’s pretty sure it’s just a reaction to Louis yelling at him and not any kind of remorse. He gets out of the car first, ducking his head as female screams pierce the air and camera flashes go off, hurrying into the hotel’s service entrance and assuming the security team will get his wasted boyfriend in safely.

They get in the lift and Louis jams himself in the far corner, watching one of their body guards drag Harry in and hastily hit the door close button. Harry looks like he’s going to be sick as the lift shoots them up to the thirty-seventh floor, but he manages to keep it together. Louis’s pretty sure he would’ve killed the boy if he’d vomited in the tiny space.

Louis unlocks his hotel room door with a keycard and glances back at Harry.

“You really want him?” the bodyguard asks skeptically, watching Harry stumble down the hallway.

“Unfortunately,” Louis sighs, holding the door open for Harry and locking it behind them.

Harry makes a pathetic noise and topples into the enormous bed, immediately swallowed up by the puffy comforter and piles of pillows. Louis rolls his eyes and follows him, gently rolling Harry onto his side in case he gets sick. Harry’s eyes are already closed, his body limp and pliable. 

“You fucking mess,” Louis grumbles, knowing full and well Harry can’t hear him. He begins stripping the boy, unzipping his leather boots and tugging them off, followed by his impossibly tight black jeans. The t-shirt is a little harder to remove, since Harry’s long arms are dead weight and the neck gets stuck on his big, stupid head. But finally Louis has him in just his briefs. 

He gets a bottle of water from the minibar and puts it on the bedside table next to Harry, as well as a bottle of painkillers from his suitcase. When he’s confident that Harry is all right, propped up on his side by a wall of pillows and breathing normally, he shuts himself in the bathroom to get ready for bed.

Freshly showered, teeth brushed, and just in his briefs as well, Louis slides into bed next to Harry’s unconscious form. He shuts the lights off and grabs his phone, hastily scrolling through Twitter to see if anyone has posted photos of Harry from the club yet. There are a handful of dark, blurry photos, but nothing too incriminating (their over-twenty-one fans are usually kinder than the young ones when it comes to this stuff, which is why they enjoy going to clubs). Most of the people on Twitter seem to be focusing on the high definition paparazzi shots of clearly drunk Harry returning to the hotel, though. _Damn, the paps got those up fast_ , he thinks. He hopes nothing else surfaces by the morning.

As his eyes adjust in the dark, he watches Harry’s sleeping form, feeling an odd mixture of anger and fondness. He knows firsthand how demanding their tour schedule is, of course, and how good it feels to go out and act normal once in a while. But he can’t believe how stupid his boyfriend acted tonight—taking drinks from strangers, dancing without his shirt, letting a _man_ grind with him.

He reaches over and unties the black and red scarf from around Harry’s head, sliding it out from under him and combing his fingers through the soft curls. Rolling his eyes, he leans over and kisses the boy’s dumb hair, taking in the familiar smell of Harry’s shampoo, before tugging the covers up over them and falling asleep, still clutching the scarf.

\-------

When Harry wakes up, it takes him a few minutes to open his eyes, quite certain his eyelids weigh a million pounds. His mouth is dry and still tastes like tequila, and he feels like someone is hitting him repeatedly in the forehead with a hammer.

He finally cracks his eyes open, immediately spotting the water and medicine Louis had left out for him. Feeling a rush of gratitude, he goes to grab them, only to discover that he can’t move his arms. 

A jolt of terror hits him, and his sluggish brain slowly realizes that his arms are tied behind his back with something soft that feels suspiciously like the Alexander McQueen headscarf he’d worn last night.

“Louis?” he calls out nervously, voice rough and cracked. “Lou?”

He hears the bathroom door open, and he looks over to see Louis coming out wearing only a pair of joggers and a sly smile. 

“Look who’s finally up.” 

Harry shifts uncomfortably, his hands going numb under his bodyweight. “Why…?” His throat feels like sandpaper, and he can’t finish his sentence.

Louis shakes his head, coming over to sit on the edge of the bed next to Harry. He picks up the bottle of water and takes off the cap, balancing it on Harry’s lower lip and carefully tipping it. Harry drinks greedily, not even caring when it drips down his chin and onto his bare chest. He whines when Louis pulls it away, but the older boy only pours out three pills from the bottle and places them on Harry’s tongue before helping him finish the water. 

Harry sinks back against the pillows, his breathing slightly accelerated, watching warily as Louis puts the cap back on the empty water bottle and tosses it in the trash. He is sure an explanation must be coming.

“Why—“ he tries again, but Louis cut him off.

“Do you remember last night?”

Harry’s eyes widen at Louis’ harsh tone. He struggles to recall the night before, knowing full and well the gray spots in his memory and the stale taste of tequila on his tongue are linked.

“I, um, we went to a club?” he says cautiously. “I-I was dancing?”

Louis snorts, moving to sit in between Harry’s legs on the bed so he can look him in the eye. “You sure were.”

Harry resists the urge to pull his legs up against his chest, feeling vulnerable with his very pissed off boyfriend sitting there so his thighs are stuck parted.

The silence stretches on and the tension builds. Suddenly, Louis picks up his phone and shoves it under Harry’s nose, Harry’s eyes slowly adjusting to the brightness.

“Oh…”

It’s a picture of him—a bad picture, admittedly, but still clearly him—in the club, and although most of it is out of focus and you can hardly see there’s even someone standing behind him, Harry can still clearly make out two large, masculine hands clutching his shirtless sides, fingers splayed over his hip tattoos.

Louis makes an angry noise and tosses the phone to the side.

Harry doesn’t know what to say, wiggling his fingers as they start to go numb again. “I,” he stammers. “I-I was drunk…”

“Drunk!” Louis’ volume rises dramatically, making Harry jump. “You were on the dance floor taking drinks from _strangers_!”

Harry’s mouth falls open, and he can feel his cheeks getting hot. Had he really been stupid enough to do that?

“Oh, don’t act so _fucking_ innocent,” Louis says, slapping Harry hard on his inner thigh to punctuate the cuss. Harry gasps and jumps, but Louis grabs both his knees before he can close his legs. “You are _not_ innocent. You were acting like a cheap god damn _whore_ last night.”

Harry can’t remember ever seeing Louis act like this. The anger tinged with jealousy is a scary combination, and it’s got his boyfriend’s usually sharp blue eyes wild and wide, his swearing on overload, and his grip on Harry’s legs painful.

“Louis, please, I’m so sorry,” he gushes.

He can hear Louis taking deep, even breaths to calm himself down. “If you want to be a whore, I can treat you like a whore,” he says tightly, making Harry’s stomach drop.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A second chapter, and only two days later, yay! And this one finally has the explicit stuff, double yay.

Harry’s heart rate skyrockets as Louis gets out of the bed and starts rifling through his suitcase. They have the entire day off between shows, and Harry has been looking forward to doing a little exploring and maybe some shopping, but now he’s quite sure that he’ll be spending the day at Louis’ mercy. Usually that idea would excite him, but Louis’ current level of emotion has got him nervous. Louis is nothing if not passionate, in both happiness and anger, and Harry’s been on the receiving end of both. He knows which one he prefers.

“Baby,” Harry tries gently, using his stomach muscles to awkwardly pull himself up onto his knees and move to the edge of the bed with his hands still bound behind his back. “Let’s go for a walk or something, hm? I’m sure the beach is—”

Louis shoots him a look so icy that Harry immediately goes silent. He tries to loosen the scarf binding his wrists together a little, but Louis tied it exceptionally tight. A little whimper of frustration escapes him, and Louis glances over again before standing up.

He tosses an assortment of things on the bedside table, and Harry doesn’t get a chance to look at them properly before Louis is pressed up against him, grabbing the back of his neck hard enough to leave bruises and crushing their mouths together. Harry whimpers again, desperately trying to catch up and kiss Louis back, but the older boy is dominating and intense and not giving Harry a chance to catch his breath.

They pull apart only so Louis can latch his mouth onto Harry’s throat, finding his sensitive pulse point and sinking in his teeth. Harry jerks in his hold, only making the pain worse, and Louis doesn’t even bother to sooth the hurt away with his tongue before he’s moving down to a nipple.

“Lou!” Harry gasps, but suddenly Louis’ thrusting three fingers into his mouth, cutting off his words. He knows instinctively to start sucking, because when Louis only wants to use Harry’s spit as lube, it’s up to Harry to get them as slick as possible. But it’s so hard to concentrate when Louis has his mouth around Harry’s right nipple, pulling it away from his body with his teeth until Harry’s sobbing around his fingers.

Harry’s head is still foggy with his hangover, and his body isn’t reacting the way it usually does when Louis treats him rough like this. Of course, Louis takes notice.

“Can’t even get hard for me, whore?” he hisses, grabbing Harry’s limp dick and squeezing it. He slaps his hand over the just-bitten nipple, leaving a red print and making Harry double over in pain, gagging on Louis’ fingers.

Louis abruptly grabs him by the shoulders and spins him around before shoving his upper half down on the mattress. Harry keeps his ass held up in the air, knowing that’s where Louis will want it anyway. He feels Louis carefully circling his hole with his spit-slick fingers before forcing one in, making Harry grunt into the sheets.

“Doesn’t matter if you can’t get hard,” he hears Louis muttering behind him, working a second finger in alongside the first. The spit is hardly lube enough, and Harry’s blinking back tears. “I can still make you come. I can _always_ make you come.”

Harry bites down on the corner of a pillow to muffle the sounds he just can’t seem to keep in as Louis’ two fingers find his prostate and begin stroking it mercilessly. Louis’ done this to him only a handful of times before, and Harry’s never sure if he loves it or hates it. He entire body starts to tremble, the sensitivity overwhelming to the point of discomfort, and he digs his toes into the mattress.

“Lou, _please_ …” he groans, not sure if he’s begging for him to keep going or to stop. “It’s, it’s—“

“Just shut up and take it like a good whore,” Louis snaps. Harry subconsciously tries to reach farther down with his bound arms to dislodge Louis’ fingers, and he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it until Louis grabs his wrists by the scarf and jerks them into the air. Harry cries out as pain rips through his shoulders. “Don’t fucking try to stop me."

As Louis keeps going, Harry can feel the bizarre orgasmic feeling start to build up, his stomach muscles clenching and his head reeling. He can hear himself babbling nonsense into the pillow as the warm waves start to wash over him and come begins leaking from his soft cock, dripping between his shaking thighs and onto the hotel sheets. Louis makes a satisfied sound as he realizes what’s happening, letting Harry’s arms drop back down so he can scoot back and watch the results of his ministrations.

“Stop,” Harry begs weakly as his body continues to pump out a seemingly endless supply of seed. “N-no more…”

“Yes, more,” Louis replies simply, his fingers never stopping even though he can feel how tender and swollen Harry’s prostate is. Harry forces his eyes open to look underneath himself, stunned by how wet the sheets are between his knees.

“Bet you want to share this with the whole fucking world, huh?” Louis asks, scooping up some of the come with his free hand and smearing it down Harry’s spine. “Think everyone should get a taste of you?” He slaps Harry’s ass hard. “Well, they can’t. It all belongs to me.”

The possessiveness in his tone clears some of the fuzziness in Harry’s head, and his stomach turns over with guilt. He had never, ever meant to make Louis so jealous by dancing with another guy at the club. If he hadn’t been stupid enough to take all those drinks, he never would’ve let someone else grind on him like that. He knows better.

“I’m sorry!” Harry chokes out, his cheeks hot and red against the bright white beddings. He can still feel liquid trickling out of him, but it’s starting to slow. “I d-didn’t mean to act like a whore, I-I _love_ you—“

Louis silences him with another harsh spank, finally withdrawing his fingers when he sees no more seed is coming out. He unties the scarf before flipping Harry over, Harry’s lower back landing in the puddle he’d made on the sheets.

“Don’t make that face,” Louis says when he sees the disgust written all over Harry’s features at laying in his own mess. “Do you think whores deserve a nice, clean place to lay?” Harry closes his eyes and shakes his head, sighing deeply. He feels absolutely empty and exhausted after that milking, but he knows Louis’ not done with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you guys ever leave actual reviews? I like reviews. Or just tell me what you want Louis to do to Harry next!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone requested a spanking that ends in tears, so I hope I delivered!

Louis stares down at Harry beneath him from his perch on the boy’s hips as he contemplates his next move. Harry’s eyes are unfocused, his breathing shallow and his skin pallid, and Louis’ not sure if it’s from his hangover, his torment, or both. But he doesn’t care; they still have a whole day ahead of them. 

He picks up one of Harry’s wrists—feeling the tiny jerk when Harry fights the urge to pull away from him—and starts rubbing his fingers into the marks left behind by the tight scarf. Harry bites his lip, watching Louis carefully, scared that the tender touch will suddenly turn to punishment again.

Louis lifts the boy’s arm up and presses his lips to the sore spots, never breaking eye contact with Harry. After a few moments of gentleness, he lets the arm fall back down.

Reaching over to the variety of items he’d deposited on the bedside table, Louis grabs a large black butt plug. Harry grimaces when he sees it, but he holds in his complaints.

“Open,” Louis demands, holding the plug up to Harry’s lips.

Harry’s eyes bug, and he shakes his head a tiny bit, straining his neck to try and move his mouth away.

“It’s clean, you idiot. Now open, unless you want it going in dry.”

He hears Harry make a strangled little noise before parting his jaws, looking anywhere but at Louis as his cheeks flush a deep red. Louis smirks as he forces the toy into Harry’s mouth, almost too big to fit, and Harry goes to work trying to get it wet. The size of the plug makes it a sloppy task, and soon Harry’s got drool running down his chin. Louis makes it harder by constantly moving the toy, pushing it in and out of Harry’s mouth and twisting it between his lips.

“Maybe I should just leave it here instead,” Louis muses aloud, putting the toy all the way in Harry’s mouth so just the flared end is left out. Harry gags a little at the sheer size of it, eyes streaming. “Keep your whore mouth full so no one else can use it?”

He thumbs away one of Harry’s tears before pulling the plug out, a string of saliva connecting it to Harry’s lower lip. Harry spits the thick liquid built up in his throat onto the plug before Louis’s moved it completely away, desperate to get it just a little slicker before Louis pushes his knees up to his chest.

Louis rubs the tip of the toy over Harry’s hole, watching the ring of muscle tighten immediately. “Better relax or it’s gonna hurt,” he warns in a sing-song voice as he slowly starts to force the plug inside.

Harry lets out a long, low whine, shifting in the sheets and trying to will his body to accept the toy. Louis watches carefully as Harry’s entrance stretches around the black plastic, and when Harry’s got his eyes shut tight in pain, he secretly drizzles a little lube onto it to help it slide it inside. Harry’s whining gets more breathless and choked as the largest part of the plug goes in, and then finally his hole clenches around the base, holding it in place.

“There you go,” Louis murmurs, tapping the base and making Harry’s hips buck when it presses against his still tender prostate. “Now. Come lay over my lap.”

Harry knows exactly what’s coming now as Louis settles on the edge of the bed with his feet on the floor and Harry shakily drapes his long body over his boyfriend’s strong thighs. Louis immediately begins rubbing his hand over Harry’s ass, kneading it in his fingers. He grabs a fistful of Harry’s hair at the crown of his head with his other hand to keep him in place.

Louis glances at the paddle he’d placed on the bedside table earlier but decides against using it. The way his anger is now, he’s afraid he’ll lose control; using his own hand will help him know just how much pain he’s inflicting.

He feels Harry fidgeting in his lap, probably uncomfortable with the plug, so he makes sure to land the first spank right over the boy’s crack. Harry cries out in surprise and pain and maybe even a little bit of pleasure as the toy slams against his prostate. 

“Count,” Louis barks.

“One,” Harry whispers.

Louis rubs his scalp a little before grabbing his hair again and starting up a relentless rhythm, taking out his jealous rage on Harry’s ass until the skin is bright red and hot to the touch. Harry faithfully keeps counting, even as the numbers get higher and choked with sobs, clenching down hard around the plug with every hit.

“Th-thirty…thirty…thirty-two,” he hiccups, and Louis’ mouth is a hard line as he realizes he needs to stop soon. He ends at thirty-five and can feel Harry’s tears soaking his joggers.

Letting go of his hair, a few loose strands tangled around his fingers from Harry’s pulling, Louis takes Harry by the shoulders and lifts him off his lap and onto his knees on the floor. He can’t mask his surprise when he sees that Harry now has a raging erection.

“Well, well, well.” He stands up from the bed and nudges Harry’s hard-on with his foot. Harry ducks his blotchy, tear-stained face in embarrassment. “Now you’re acting like your true self, hm? A good whore who gets hard when he gets a little bit of attention?”

Louis wrings his hands together, one still stinging from the spanking he delivered. He watches his boyfriend squirming on the floor, his ass probably burning and the plug driving him insane. His own cock starts to harden, and he bends down and kisses Harry on the cheek, licking at his salty tears.

“Come on,” he says, standing up and indicating that Harry should do the same. “I want a shower.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love your comments and suggestions, great reminders that you're all just as nuts as I am ;) Keep the prompts coming! Sorry this is on the short side.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my darling Kate who keeps sending me prompts! And I just want to clarify again that this is NOT meant to be abusive, it's supposed to be a dom/sub BDSM relationship. I think I must've done that thing again where I forget to write about how much they truly love each other...

Harry slowly gets to his feet, staggering sideways a little on weak knees. He rubs his cheeks with the backs of his hands, wet from his tears and Louis’ tongue, sniffling a bit as he tries to pull himself together. His cock is hard and heavy as he follows Louis into the hotel bathroom, feeling the plug’s presence with every step. 

He loves submitting to Louis like this, letting his boyfriend control everything about his mind and body, taking the pain and mixing it with the pleasure until his head is buzzing. But Harry knows that, even though this kind of sex is part of their relationship, he still hurt Louis deeply by his actions. He hopes if he’s on his absolute best behavior and submits to Louis as fully as he can, Louis can spend his anger and then forgive him.

Once Harry enters the bathroom, Louis closes the door and shoves Harry up against it. Harry grunts as his erection is pressed between their bodies, staining Louis’ joggers with precum. Louis kisses him once, hard and fast, before mouthing down his body. Trembling against the door, Harry watches with wide eyes as Louis sinks to his knees, leaving a trail of bite marks from Harry’s neck to his thighs.

“Louis,” he chokes out, unable to contain himself. Louis smirks, his tongue darting out to lick at Harry’s slit, pulling back with a shining string of precum attached. The sight makes Harry’s head spin.

Harry wants to beg Louis to suck him off, he can feel the words building in his throat, but he swallows them down in an effort to be good. Louis’s watching him, his blue eyes sharp and observant, and Harry digs his fingernails into his own thighs as the seconds tick by.

“Good boy,” Louis murmurs, and Harry almost shouts with joy when Louis wraps his lips around Harry’s cock.

He closes his eyes, reveling in the feeling of Louis’s hot, wet mouth, and he doesn’t realize that Louis’s sneaked a hand behind him until he’s grabbing hold of the plug and twisting. Harry’s gasps and his hips buck immediately, but Louis just swallows him down, having anticipated it.

Louis continues playing with the plug and sucking carefully, lightly, and Harry’s panting softly for _more_. Louis’s got him right on the precipice but won’t push him over, and Harry’s glad he keeps his own nails short or else his thighs would be bleeding. His sore ass is pressed against the door, the wood cool against his heated skin, as he fights every primal urge to thrust into Louis’s throat.

As suddenly as it started, it stops. Louis grabs Harry by the upper arm and thrusts him into the enormous glass shower, turning the water on. Harry shrieks when the freezing cold water sprays over him, sending his orgasm running away, his erection wavering. Because it’s a hotel the water warms up quickly, and Harry stands in the middle of the shower in complete shock, his head hanging and his curls matted to his face.

Once steam starts filling the bathroom, Louis sheds his joggers and gets in the shower with him. He wraps his arms around Harry’s waist and rubs his butterfly tattoo, kissing his wet hair. Harry tries to hold it in, but a small hiccupping sob escapes him.

“I’m gonna ride you.”

Harry’s body stiffens, certain he heard wrong. But Louis’s soft laugh in his ear confirms that he heard right. “Sit on the ledge there.”

Harry looks over where Louis’s indicating and sees there’s a tiled seat in the corner of the shower. He sits down on it quickly, jumping a little in pain as he forgets the state of his freshly spanked, plugged ass. His cock is fully hard again, though, his eyes glued to his boyfriend’s ass as he leans out the shower door and grabs a bottle of water-safe lube from his toiletry bag. 

Smirking, Louis stands in front of Harry and pours some lube onto his fingers. He lifts one leg up, putting his foot on the seat right next to Harry so he’s looming over him, and begins to finger himself.

Harry can’t help but moan, so turned on by watching his lover preparing himself to take his cock. His hands clench uselessly at his sides, longing to do the fingering himself but having to settle with just looking. Louis moans too, louder and freer than Harry, his eyes fluttering closed as he gets three fingers deep inside himself.

After a few long minutes, Louis retracts his fingers and picks up the bottle of lube again. He drizzles it over Harry’s cock, making it twitch visibly but never touching it with his hand. 

“Ready?” Louis asks, his voice rough with lust.

Harry just nods dumbly, reaching for Louis’s hips.

“Hands behind your head,” Louis instructs, and Harry makes a pained face but laces his fingers behind his head.

He’s shivering, both with cold and anticipation, making his erection practically vibrate. Louis grabs a hold of it, keeping it steady as he straddles Harry’s lap and begins to lower himself down.

Harry’s eyes practically roll back into his head as his cock sinks into Louis’s tight, wet heat. The added pressure of Louis’s weight makes the plug in his ass press against the seat, forcing it deeper inside him. He could come already.

“I-I can’t… I’m not… Not gonna last,” Harry gasps when Louis begins to move, his spine a delicious curve in front of Harry as he bends over and rolls his hips. Harry has to clutch onto his own hair so he doesn’t move his hands and touch Louis’s perfect body.

“You can, and you will,” Louis commands through gritted teeth, stretched wide by Harry’s impressive girth.

“The plug,” Harry whines, barely louder than a whisper.

Louis shoots him a look over his shoulder, stilling his grinding hips. “Are you _complaining_ that I’m riding you?”

Harry shakes his head so hard it makes him woozy, and Louis starts to move again. Harry's wet skin is cold, too far away from the warm spray of the shower, but there’s a heat inside him now as he fights off his orgasm again and again. Louis's strong thighs are taut as he lifts himself up, up, almost all the way off of Harry’s cock, and then slams himself back down. He leans back against Harry, his shoulder blades against Harry’s chest, resting his head on Harry’s shoulder.

Louis mouth is right next to Harry’s ear, his hips still working to lift himself up and down, and he whispers, “Come.” 

Harry’s body’s response is immediate. He pushes his mouth into Louis’s exposed neck to muffle his cries as he comes hard, clenching around the plug and emptying himself deep inside his boyfriend’s body. Louis rides him through it until Harry is whining with sensitivity.

Louis stands up so their bodies part, leaving Harry to sag on the small seat. Louis snaps his fingers once and points at the shower floor, and Harry hesitates only briefly before dropping to his knees in the indicated spot. His hands are still behind his head, because Louis hasn’t told him to move them. 

Louis leans up against the shower wall, pushing his ass out toward Harry and watching the boy over his shoulder. “Eat me out,” he demands. “Until it’s clean.”

Harry tries not to let the shock show on his face, since Louis is watching him, but Harry knows _Louis_ knows that Harry hates doing this. He loves to rim his boyfriend, yes, but he hates tasting himself.

“ _Now_ , whore.”

Harry tries to break away from his thoughts and steel himself for the task at hand, reminding himself that he’s swallowed Louis’s come a thousand times; this is no different. _But it is different, it’s your own_ , the little voice in his head keeps saying. _You’ll be swallowing your own come._

He cries out in sudden pain as Louis reaches out and slaps him across the face. It’s not too hard, but it startles him, the sound echoing wetly in the shower. Sighing deeply, Harry moves forward on his knees until he’s right behind Louis.

“You can use your hands,” Louis says, his tone a little gentler.

Harry reaches up and grabs his boyfriend’s perfect ass, taking a second to admire it as he parts it open. He can see the white leaking slowly from Louis’s reddened hole, and he closes his eyes before ducking his head in and licking gently.

Louis’s physical response is immediate, his moan and shivers encouraging Harry to keep going despite the taste of his own spunk. He moves his tongue all over the puckered muscle before carefully delving it inside, swallowing repeatedly as he cleans him out.

“Good, good boy,” Louis whispers hoarsely, dropping his hand to start jerking himself off. Harry uses his fingers to open Louis up more, allowing his tongue to get in deeper, swallowing more of his come. His stomach is churning unhappily, so he focuses on Louis’s pleasure as much as he can.

Louis doesn’t warn Harry when he’s about to come, but Harry has been with Louis long enough to pick up on the telltale signs. He licks him through it, feeling the ring of muscles clenching around his tongue as Louis spills his seed all over the shower wall. He doesn’t stop until Louis turns around.

Harry looks up at his boyfriend, fighting his nausea and feeling a little bit of pride at how wrecked Louis looks after his orgasm. When Louis’s breathing has evened out and he’s regained his composure, he bends over and kisses Harry deeply, sharing the taste of Harry’s come until Harry’s dizzy with it.

He helps Harry up to his feet and guides him back under the shower spray. They both clean off properly, Louis rubbing both their bodies down with soap and helping Harry wash his hair. Only then does Louis gently ease the plug out of Harry’s body, playing with his hole for a few seconds while it gapes before it finally clamps down around nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now how would we like to see this end?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you AGAIN to Kate whose prompts helped to push me just like Louis pushed Harry. <3 Enjoy some fluff and sex.

Louis takes one of the giant white hotel towels and rubs Harry down, watching the boy’s face carefully. He knows he pushed him hard this morning, between the milking, the spanking, the orgasm denial, and the come-eating. Harry still looks quite dazed.

“You did well,” he whispers as he presses his lips to the dark bruise on Harry’s throat he’d made at the very beginning.

Harry sighs in response, leaning a bit heavily against Louis. Once they’re both dried off, Louis grabs an elastic and pulls Harry’s wet hair back into a messy but gentle bun. Then he leads him back to their bed.

Once he gets Harry tucked under the covers, Louis notices that Harry’s eyes are full of tears. “Baby,” he says quickly. “You’re alright?” 

Harry nods, the motion knocking the tears loose so they start tumbling down his cheeks, still flushed from the hot shower. Louis tries to kiss them away as fast as they fall, worried that he did indeed push Harry too far. He holds onto Harry’s shoulder, lining up the compass on his forearm with the ship on Harry’s bicep, something that always makes him feel better.

He doesn’t make Harry talk, knowing the words will come out eventually; Harry isn’t a bottler. Harry turns his head and kisses Louis hand on his shoulder, nuzzling it. “I’m so sorry,” he finally chokes out. 

Louis slides into bed and spoons Harry body, feeling a little guilty when Harry hisses in pain as Louis’s hips press against his sore ass. He envelops the larger body as best he can, so they’re touching from head to toe.

“I didn’t mean t-to make you so mad.”

Louis’s quiet, choosing his words. He doesn’t want Harry to feel bad, but he also doesn’t want Harry to repeat the mistake ever again. Tears are still running down Harry’s cheeks, dark spots on the white pillowcase. 

“It’s _your_ image, love. I’m not angry anymore. I’m just trying to protect you.” Harry’s body shudders in Louis’s arms. “I know you know everything we do gets photographed and papped and ends up on Twitter in seconds. I hadn’t even gotten undressed last night before the photos of you coming into the hotel looking like a hot mess were online.”

“Sometimes I hate this,” Harry moans. Louis frowns, thinking Harry means their relationship, but Harry clarifies. “This life. Just want to go out, just one night, and not worry.” 

Louis kisses the nape of Harry’s neck, still damp from his hair. “I think it’s pretty worth it,” he says, lightly teasing. Harry manages a weak laugh, still sniffling but mostly finished crying.

“I really am sorry,” he says. “I know I made you jealous.”

Louis prickles a little, hating the word _jealous_ even though he knows that’s exactly what he felt. His grip on Harry’s waist has tightened subconsciously, and he works to relax his muscles. “I hated seeing his hands on you,” he admits. “And you not stopping him.”

Harry turns over and buries his tearstained face into Louis’s chest. “Too drunk,” he mumbles against the skin. “Stupid. So stupid.”

Louis carefully grasps Harry’s bun and tugs his head backward so he can look him in the eye. Harry’s eyes are so startling green and wide and innocent, red-rimmed and still teary; Louis wonders if he could ever stay mad at him. He smiles, knowing it’s making his eyes do that crinkling thing Harry loves so much, because Harry reaches up with a tentative hand and touches the skin just above his cheekbone. “Love you,” Harry whispers.

“Love you more,” Louis whispers back, kissing Harry gentler than he has all morning. “Didn’t push you too far, did I?”

Harry immediately shakes his head, nipping at Louis’s lower lip. “Would’ve worded out if you did,” he promises, voice still thick from crying. “But Lou’s gonna kill you when she sees this hickey tomorrow.”

Louis gets his mouth on the bruised spot again, working it with his lips until Harry’s panting. “Are you getting hard again?” he asks, partly mocking and partly stunned. “You already came twice.”

“The first time did _not_ count,” Harry says, trying to rub himself against Louis’s hip. He suddenly punches Louis in the shoulder, playfully but hard. “And you made me _eat it_ the second time!”

“Ow,” Louis laughs, grabbing Harry’s wrists in his hands. “I guess you deserve to come again for that?”

“Yes,” Harry agrees readily, tangling their legs so he can keep sliding his erection over Louis’s hipbone. “You know I hate doing that.”

“Mm, but _I_ love it,” Louis teases, kissing Harry’s tear tracks away. “Bet you don’t have anything left in here, do you?” He drops a hand down to squeeze Harry’s balls gently.

“Bet I do,” Harry promises, his eyes rolling back as Louis starts stroking him deliberately slowly. “Please, please, please.”

“You already came twice,” Lous repeats. “I only came once.” Louis moves his hand away from Harry’s cock and down lower, circling his hole, still stretched from the plug. “Doesn’t seem fair.”

“Fuck me then,” Harry begs. He rolls onto his back and spreads his legs invitingly, and Louis can’t help but crawl between them. “Don’t need prep.”

Louis smirks, dropping his head and giving Harry’s entrance a light kiss, making the muscle clench and Harry moan brokenly. He licks it teasingly, stroking himself at the same time, getting ready to bury himself inside his boyfriend. 

“Please, love,” Harry whines, fisting the sheets. “Want you.”

Louis forces himself to straighten up, even though he would’ve been happy to rim Harry for hours. He grabs the bottle of lube that’s sticking out from under a pillow and slicks himself up, satisfied that Harry indeed doesn’t need more prep, and lines his cock up with Harry’s hole.

“ _Please_ ,” Harry gasps, reaching out and grabbing Louis by the hips, forcing him forward until he’s fully sheathed in Harry’s body.

“Greedy,” Louis scolds, but he’s smiling. He leans over Harry’s body, resting on his forearms, and Harry wraps his legs around Louis’s waist. Louis mouths the bruise on Harry’s throat again, loving how it makes the boy shiver and writhe, he begins to thrust.

Harry’s so happy, so glad to be connecting with Louis like this again after a morning of difficult punishment that he knows he deserved. Their bodies fit together perfectly, like key and lock, and he reaches his head up to catch Louis’s lips in a deep kiss. They make out lazily as Louis keeps the pace slow, rocking his hips methodically. Harry doesn’t even feel the pain of Louis pressing against his beaten ass anymore. 

After a while of slow and lazy, Louis straightens up and begins to fuck Harry harder, chasing his orgasm. Harry gasps, reaching behind him to grab the headboard and steady himself as Louis drives in and out of his hole, slamming against his still-swollen prostate.

“Come,” Louis grunts. “Like this. You can do it. Come.”

Harry bites his lip painfully hard, not sure he can do what Louis’s commanded after everything he’s endured this morning, but his body is responding exactly how Louis wants. Harry can feel his muscles tightening, his balls drawing up, and heat spreading through his belly.

With a strangled cry he starts to come, shooting only one strong string of seed across his stomach, the rest simply bubbling up and sliding down his cock. He goes limp afterwards, breathing hard, but forces his eyes to stay open so he can watch Louis come.

“Good boy,” Louis whispers, his voice tight with his own impending orgasm. "Guess you did have a little left to give, huh?" He grabs one of Harry’s thighs and pushes it against Harry’s chest, giving himself more leverage to fuck him harder and deeper. Harry’s sensitive after having just come, but he loves the feeling.

Louis’s hips begin to stutter and he comes, pouring himself into Harry’s willing body. Harry watches Louis’s face, and it’s one of his favorite sights in the world, seeing his boyfriend let go completely as he orgasms. Louis finally collapses down on him, and Harry hugs his smaller frame tight against him.

After a few minutes, once his breathing has slowed, Louis sits up. Harry’s come is sticky between them, and Louis scoops up a little and sucks it off his finger.

“Not so bad,” he teases. “Dunno why you hate it so much.”

Harry smacks him in the chest, laughing. They’re messy and in need of a second shower but Louis ignores it all and cuddles up to Harry. He strokes the tattoos on Harry’s hips as though he can physically wipe away the memory of the other man’s hands there.

“M’sorry,” Harry mumbles for the millionth time. Louis silences him with a kiss.

“S’okay. I still love you, whore.”

Harry smacks him again, still smiling as they fall asleep together.


End file.
